what is sacred in our blood
there is a secret that rides our veins and it is as bittersweet as the ancient rose and the story of its thorns.
I had dreamt that I was led to a flower kingdom, many flowers speaking the unspoken language carried by the winds. Mine ears opening to the sounds I have not heard for so long feeling familiar and nostalgic; feeling at home and yet in a distant land like a dream. Seeing flower petals opening swaying in the winds like ears, opening and closing, listening to the music of silence and sweetly singing with its own silent tunes. Here I was led to atop of a mountain, surrounded by flowers, some recognizable, some I've never seen before, dancing to the secret and silent music that penetrated even that which thought was forgotten within. I was led by different flowers walking beside me, to a place where there were roses, roses that are no longer in the earth plain. The mother of the rose was at the very top, surrounded by many matriarchal roses and its offsprings all around. She told me of their story, as a mind to mind transmission. The lineage of the rose blood rides in me. They will continue to protect me, as they have in other lifetimes and this blood connects me with my sisters of past lifetimes. They use to inhabit the earth, but decided to leave because they were abused by ignorance and by arrogance. Now they live in another dimension, and they are the oldest of the rose lineage. They came to my dream to remind me and reconnect again of the same blood that gives life to a rose is the same that rides is in my veins. They tell of a time where they were allies of mine in past lifetime. The roses looked quite different from how they are presently in the earth plain as we know them. They where deep blood red with thickened petals in the outermost layer, raw like blood tinged leather and as you look in, the petals become more soft as velvet and even softer and fragile still in the most inner layer, thin and somewhat transparent red. They had thorns but only close to the petals not throughout the stem as we know them now. They told me they had to grow more thorns over the centuries to protect itself. Come even closer, they smell of wine and blood, which felt strange as there scent lingered in my mind, which I can still remember being very distinct, none that I've smelled before, pungent, raw and sweet at the same time. And when the mother rose finished her transmission, I felt drifting back to the earth plain and waking up, still feeling and sensing the roses around. I felt blessed to have visited the roses and hear of its stories, however sad, to know they had to leave the earth because of abuse and how many like its kind whether plant, flower animal nation also left because of our abuse and neglect, our ignorance and arrogance.
I've had other dreams of roses and its petals scattered about where I stood, and others have had visions of roses around me. My shaman teacher had a vision of me being birthed from a rose with seven stars around my head forming like a halo a few days before she met me, several years ago and she painted a picture and gifted me with it. I have been allowed to work with the flower kingdom, flower essences and they whisper to me what people may need to help in their healing. I am humbled and feel so blessed and return the blessings of the rose, sweet and raw, friend, healer, protector. i love you.